


Broken Glass

by orphan_account



Category: Original Work
Genre: Drabble, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, blood tw, minor injury tw, venting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-24
Updated: 2017-01-24
Packaged: 2018-09-19 16:22:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 537
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9450140
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Oliver is used to holding it all together. He keeps his mind tied together with a thin, thin string.Sometimes, he pushes too hard and the string breaks.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Yay, another venting drabble! This one uses completely original characters of mine. Please let me know if you want to see more of these, as I'd love to keep developing them and writing for them.
> 
> A quick explanation: Oliver has a history of relationship abuse, in which he was punished severely for even the smallest mistakes. This was ingrained into his mind, and he's struggling to break from it now. (Oliver's current relationship with Taylor is completely safe, though)

Oliver's eyes are locked on a small pile of broken glass on the floor in front of him. His hands are curled into fists, resting on the duvet beneath him. He can't tell if he's shaking or not. He probably is.

_Look what you've done. God, you always mess up like this. Why can't you do anything right? No wonder Rapha practically abandons you for weeks at a time, you can't go five minutes without fucking up--_

The door to the apartment opens with a click. Oliver is finally distracted from the unbearably loud voice in his head.  
"Honey, I'm home!" Raphael's voice rings through the apartment, and Oliver almost feels the urge to laugh at the cliche phrase.

The nagging voice in Oliver's head finds new fodder and starts to shout again. Oliver winces, digging his nails into the skin of his neck. The pain quiets the voice, if only for a moment.

"Olly, are you home?" Raphael's voice breaks through a sort of mental barrier again. Oliver slides off of his bed and walks slowly to the door, trying to steady himself. His stomach and chest feel like they're being torn apart by a hurricane.

"I'm in- I'm in here," Oliver calls through the closed door. He hears a clear tremor in his voice, and that voice from earlier begins chastising him for it.

Footsteps approach the bedroom door, and Oliver feels panic spike through his stomach at the speed of them. He scrambles backwards and feels his foot fall onto the shards of glass next to the bed. He yelps and jumps to the side, dropping onto the bed and holding his foot.

Raphael hurries to open the door and rushes to Oliver's side.

"Olly, baby, what happened?" he asks, glancing between the glass on the floor and the blood on Oliver's foot.

"I-I stepped on broken glass," Oliver responds in a small voice. His eyes are squeezed shut, and his nails are dug into his foot to try and distract his senses from the glass in his skin.

Raphael knows Oliver well, and he knows not to ask why there's glass on the floor. Instead, he scoops Oliver up and carries him to the bathroom.

The few pieces of glass that had gotten stuck in Oliver's foot are carefully pried out. His foot is cleaned and bandaged up. Raphael carries him into the living room and sits down on the couch with Oliver curled up in his lap.

"What about the glass?" Oliver asks, his voice barely reaching above a whisper.

"I'll clean it up later."

There are a few moments of silence. Raphael cards his hand through Oliver's hair several times, while the other arm is wrapped around Oliver's waist. Oliver relaxes against Raphael's chest and lets out a sigh.

"I knocked a glass off my dresser," Oliver says after a while. Raphael tilts Oliver's head towards his and plants a kiss on his forehead.

"Thank you for telling me," he responds. "We'll clean it up later, okay?"

"Okay." There's a pause. "Thank you, for not being mad."

"I could never be mad at you, not over something like that," Raphael murmurs. He feels Oliver smile, his face buried in Raphael's sweater.


End file.
